


learning experiences

by galaxyeyedrops



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 04:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyeyedrops/pseuds/galaxyeyedrops
Summary: A series of firsts.





	learning experiences

The Astrals create them in their own image. There is no need to, Sandalphon understands, but if their masters are anything, it's prideful.

Archangels are given limbs, but not the complex jumble of nerves underneath. They are given bones, but only to create a certain silhouette. They are given flesh but not blood.

Non-functional features are added as well. Primals don't reproduce, their cores are their beings, and yet their shells are decorated with sexual characteristics to the point its gaudy. They have no use for such things of course, their masters tell them—Sandalphon recalls one particular archangel taking this as a challenge—they were built for work, not pleasure.

Primals toil and labor all day as the Astrals pat themselves on the back, Sandalphon, beneath them both, waits, aching for a chance. The routine repeats, cycling through the millennia, over and over again. Until one day, it doesn't.

 

* * *

 

The first time Sandalphon touches himself is in the dungeons of Pandemonium.

He's rough, his hand slides against his shaft with a speed that burns. His skin stings from the lack of lubricant. It's awful, no matter how many times he strokes, how many times he tugs against the head, his orgasm refuses to build.

Before, when he still used to have coffee in the shaded garden, he refused to do something like this. He knew where his yearning for Lucifer lied, where it would lead to had his dreams manifested into reality. It's out of a respect for the Supreme Primarch, a fear of what supplement his longing will bring, that he does not.

But here, locked away and forgotten, he can. It takes what seems like hours, but he finally brings himself to a peak. Bitterness stains his release and churns in his gut in the aftermath.

He never knew that the image of Lucifer reaching out towards him could be so hateful.

 

* * *

 

Onboard the Grandcypher, he has plenty of opportunity. The Singularity provides him his own room, in a relatively quiet wing of the ship.

There are few that will visit him, even less that will enter without knocking. And yet, with the exception of bathing, his waking hours are spent fully clothed.

 

* * *

 

The subject of romance eventually comes up. Sandalphon supposes it was inevitable, given the enthusiasm Gran and Lyria had when introducing him to the other Grandcypher residents.

_ You’ve been shut up in there for a year! _ Vyrn tells him.  _ They'd love to meet you, _ Lyria adds.

They all know his history (because of course they do), reasonably they'd be either uncaring or unwilling to broach the topic with the man who had, admittedly, thrown a destructive tantrum, demanding the person he loved look at him.

That said, the Grandcypher attracts all kinds of characters. Reasonableness is not a given.

It's after an adventure at the Auguste Isles, a simple dispute about fishing blown out of proportion (Gran assures him it happens quite often), that a few vaguely familiar faces approach him at the refreshments shack. A few feet away, he can see Gran offering Eustace a popsicle, watching them out of the corner of his eye, ready to interfere if the need arises.

Sandalphon lets out a breath. Very well then.

He listens to the entreaties on the appeal of a summer romance, how quick flings can help get ones mind off things, _rebounds aren't_ _all bad y'know!_ And how they are so many attractive men who really wouldn't mind the fact he tried to destroy the Skyrealms.

Sandalphon wishes he could doubt the last part.

“I have Lucifer,” he says instead.

 

* * *

 

The first time they kiss, Lucifer initiates.

It's after Sandalphon's introduced him to the newest type of coffee trend amongst mortals, a frappuccino this time, that Lucifer leans forwards swipes the edge of Sandalphon's lips with a finger.

“You had some cream there,” he explains, gestures at the small fleck. Sandalphon suddenly finds himself growing dizzy.

Archangels don't need to breath, things like lungs or hearts not present in their biology. And yet, Sandalphon’s is beating all the same.

Unconsciously, he parts his lips, nodding at Lucifer's unasked question, and in the next moment, a hand gently cups his face and a mouth is pressed against his own. It's warm, this realm prone to wonderful impossibilities, sealing in the little air Sandalphon has left, until all he can take in is Lucifer.

 

* * *

 

“Eugen,” Sandalphon calls out to the man, approaching him after dinner. “I need to ask you a few things.”

The man in question raises an eyebrow, but beckons him to a seat besides himself all the same. “Go ahead.”

“No.” His face is red, Sandalphon realizes with horror, but the fact remains that this man is his best option. “I’d prefer a more private setting.” He bites his lips, lowering his voice. “It's about intimate affairs…”

 

* * *

 

“I pressed it myself,” Lucifer tells him with a smile.

Oil-slick fingers drag against his partner’s insides, intent on making the passage as smooth as possible. Sandalphon pushes himself down on each thrust, gasping as Lucifer withdraws them to apply even more oil.

 


End file.
